


Soon

by Zilchtastic



Series: How Soon Is Now [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, First Time, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilchtastic/pseuds/Zilchtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a cold, blustery night when a timid knock sounds at his door. He has to tamp down the eagerness that wells up within. <i>Go slow</i>, he tells himself. <i>Don't scare her. Don't hurt her.</i> He breathes in deep and lets the air out slowly. Then he calls to the door, "Yeah?"<br/>It cracks open just enough for the Inquisitor to poke her head inside. Her hair is tousled from the wind, and her face looks pale. He wonders how long she's been standing out there, working up the courage to knock, debating with herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in... Well, years really. It's also my first fic for Dragon Age.
> 
> Lots of dirty talk. Shades of d/s. Slight size kink.

_She's such a tiny little thing,_ Bull thinks as the Herald approaches him across the training field. It's not the first time he's thought it. She stops before him, all big green eyes and pale skin and pointy ears, and he thinks, _Cute_.

It's not the first time he's thought that, either.

The icy wind blows her bangs into her eyes. Her hair is so blond it's almost white; short, he thinks, but still long enough to get a good handful of.

She smiles up at him, if you could call it a smile. It's small and unsure and a little awkward. He'd like to think it was all him, but no, she smiles this way at everybody. It's like she isn't used to the expression and isn't sure she's doing it right. 

"How are you doing, Bull?" she asks, her mild voice almost lost to the wind.

He looks down at her, arms crossed. "Not bad. Seems like you've got a good thing going here."

She nods seriously, expression settling back into that careful almost-blankness that he's pretty sure she's practiced. _What made her need to hide?_ he wonders. _What made her look at the world with such serious eyes?_

When Krem had come back from delivering his message to the Inquisition, Bull had asked idly what this Herald of So-and-So looked like. Krem had shrugged. "You know, just... Elfy, I guess. Tiny. Looked like a stiff wind'd blow her away."

He'd laughed at that. "Now this, I want to see. Weapons?"

"Knives on her back, one for each hand. Looked like they'd been used some."

"Hm." That had surprised him. "I'd have figured her for a mage, not a fighter. Well, I guess we'll find out, eh? If she takes your offer, anyway."

And then they'd met out on the Storm Coast. The first thing he remembered seeing through the blinding storm was the flash of her knives, the quick way she moved, the fierce look on her rain-lashed face. She'd cut down people who towered over her, and hadn't gotten a scratch herself. She didn't even seem to notice that she was covered in other peoples' blood.

Then she'd walked up to him, saying "Iron Bull, I presume," so serious and straight-faced, and he'd laughed. He'd named his terms and she'd agreed, with a threat slipped in at the end: "If you betray us..."

He'd smiled. _I think I like this Herald._

And now here they were, in the freezing ass-end of nowhere, surrounded by green soldiers and nervous scouts and an inner circle that didn't seem to know where their center was. A few weeks ago Bull wouldn't have given her a chance in hell at accomplishing anything, but now that he's seen how fucking hard she works, how hard she _fights_ for her people, he thinks to himself _Maybe she can do it._

She's still so tiny, though.

Their conversation meanders; Bull doesn't flirt, doesn't loom over her or smirk or anything. He's still not sure where he stands, if she just considers him the hired help like most people do or what. She asks so many questions, though, as if she wants to know him, as if she wants to memorize every face in Haven so she'll know who she has to protect. He almost wants to tell her not to get too attached; people die, it happens, and you can't mourn every single one. He's kind of sure she'll disagree with him on that, though, all serious and stubborn and innocent like she's never seen anyone die before.

And then she starts asking him about Qunari sex, and it throws him for a loop.

She still looks serious, like it's an academic study or something, but her eyes are a little wide and her face is way pinker than the icy wind alone can account for. She looks like she'll bolt at any second. Bull wants to press her a little, see where she's going with this, but instead he answers her questions as thoughtfully and plainly as he can.

When she's satisfied (or perhaps not; her eyes have this confused look, and she's not-quite frowning) she bids him a farewell and heads off to the blacksmith. Bull watches her go, wondering what's going on in that serious head of hers.

_What the hell just happened?_

***

It actually doesn't take him long to figure it out. She's almost formal with everyone, friendly but stiff, awkward beneath the smooth polish of her words and her caring. She blushes so easily though; any compliment has her cheeks all pink and rosy, and she ducks her head like she doesn't know what to do with praise, like it confuses her but she doesn't want to seem _rude_. She wanders the camp like a curious bird, flitting from person to person, never staying in any one place for too long. And when she talks to men, he can see her spine stiffen like she's almost afraid-- but she still blushes, and she always comes back to them, wanting to know more, more, always more.

It clicks then: she's wound up, but she doesn't know what to do about it. Too innocent for that. A blushing virgin, for real. All the work, all the fighting, all the world-shaking decisions, and she's got no one to pop her cork. Maybe she doesn't even know how to do it herself. Maybe she doesn't even realize that that's what she's looking for as she dances around her people shyly, cautiously, curiously.

Bull thinks it's kinda hot.

He starts throwing her smirks when she comes around to talk, just to see what she'll do. More often than not she looks away quickly, like the sight is too much. But she always looks back again.

Out in the field, as they stumble around rocky landscapes and Fade rifts full of demons, it's even easier. Varric is a great foil for all his dirty jokes, and sometimes when they camp he and the dwarf trade stories over the fire.

"Okay," Varric says, gesturing with the spoon he's just pulled out of his bowl of stew, "best fake name you've heard from a working girl."

Bull grins and lifts an eyebrow. " _Just_ the girls?"

Varric laughs. "Fine, boys too, but this better be good."

Lavellan is sitting across from the fire at right angles to Varric and Bull. She's looking into her bowl of stew, frowning, like maybe if she stares hard enough it'll explain what the hell her companions are talking about. It's hard to tell in the dark, but it looks like she might be blushing. She's naive but not _stupid_.

He and Varric trade increasingly raunchy names back and forth for a while. She's looking at both of them now, eyes bouncing back and forth between them, and it feels like she wants to ask a question but doesn't know how to put it into words.

Iron Bull turns to her, grinning. "What about you, boss? Heard any good ones?"

Her eyes go all wide. "I don't-- Why would I--?"

"He's _kidding_ ," Varric says quickly, shooting Bull a warning look across the fire. 

Lavellan manages a brief, fake-sounding laugh. "Of course. I know. I'll leave you gentlemen to your stories." She gets up from her seat and stretches exaggeratedly, as if to prove she's tired. Bull doesn't mind-- the motion lifts her breasts in interesting ways, and he's pretty sure she doesn't even _know_.

Once she's retired to her tent, Varric turns back to him. "Are you _trying_ to embarrass her?"

"Nope." Bull finishes up the last of his stew. "Just testing the waters." He leaves Varric looking after him, confused.

***

It's not until after the disaster that is Haven, when they've started fixing up Skyhold, that he _really_ starts to relax and let it all out. He tells the Herald-- No, the _Inquisitor_ , now-- about his sexual conquests, his fun. "D'you know if that redhead working in the kitchens is single?" he asks her, leaning in conspiratorily, like they're on this hunt together.

"Bull, do you _ever_ think about things other than sex?" she asks.

"Sometimes," he says, "but most of it isn't as fun, right?"

She falls right into his trap. "I wouldn't know," she says, looking away, the tips of her _ears_ going pink because she's blushing so hard.

"What, really?" Bull feigns surprise. "Never?"

"I... I've not had a chance to..." Her stuttering is kind of adorable.

"Hey, no worries," Bull says, knocking back the rest of his ale. "That's why we have hands, right?"

She walks into trap number two. "What does that mean?"

_By the Qun_ he thinks, almost dizzily. So innocent she's never even touched _herself_. It takes all his willpower to keep from propositioning her right there. _I could show you all sorts of things_ , he thinks wickedly, and some of it must show on his face because her eyes get all big again. But Bull backs off, gestures with his empty mug. "I'll tell you about it later. Too noisy in here. Stop by whenever you want to chat, boss."

She nods and takes her leave. He watches her slim hips swish out the door.

He wonders if she'll pay him a visit soon.

***

She doesn't show up that night, but Bull isn't surprised. She needs time to mull things over, to ponder and question until she finally can't hold back her curiosity any more. For the next few days she avoids him a little, but she keeps shooting him looks, half-inquisitive, half-scared. Maybe a little aroused.

Iron Bull is patient. No reason to push her. No reason to demand anything she doesn't want to give. That doesn't stop him from jerking off at the thought of being the first to touch her, though; the first to taste her, the first to show her what pleasure her body can bring. He pictures her wide eyes, her startled gasps of delight. He imagines pinning her down and giving her orgasm after orgasm, until she's sobbing and begging and screaming his name. He comes hard enough to see stars. 

A week passes by. Iron Bull waits. 

It's a cold, blustery night when a timid knock sounds at his door. He has to tamp down the eagerness that wells up within. _Go slow_ , he tells himself. _Don't scare her. Don't hurt her._ He breathes in deep and lets the air out slowly. Then he calls to the door, "Yeah?"

It cracks open just enough for the Inquisitor to poke her head inside. Her hair is tousled from the wind, and her face looks pale. He wonders how long she's been standing out there, working up the courage to knock, debating with herself.

"Bull? Sorry, is it a bad time?"

He gives her a reassuring smile. "'Course not," he says. "Come on in."

She slips through the door, shutting it against the wind. She has a bottle in one hand and she holds it up for him to see.

"Josephine gave me this, but I'm not much of a drinker. I thought you might want to..." She stumbles a little, changes what she's going to say and then changes it again. "To talk, or... Cards, maybe?" 

"Sounds good," Bull tells her, and she looks enormously relieved. She moves away from the door, cautiously, eyes glued to him.

"I didn't think to bring glasses," she says as she gets closer, looking away suddenly. "I should go back, find--"

Bull waves a hand. "Don't worry about it, boss. Wouldn't be the first time I had to share."

She nods, face serious. She stands and looks at him and tries not to obviously tremble.

"Got a lack of furniture in here," Bull says, sliding over on the bed to make room and patting the space next to him. "Unless you wanted to stand all night...?"

She perches hesitantly on the very edge of his bed, like she wants to be ready to flee if she has to. Bull keeps his hands on his knees, leans back against the wall so he isn't towering over her. He offers her a small, encouraging smile. It seems to calm her, a little.

"So what's on the menu?" he asks her. She looks confused until she suddenly remembers the bottle in her hand. She holds it up like a ward between them.

"I have no idea what this stuff is," she admits, shoulders hunching. "I can't even decipher the label."

He laughs at that and takes the offered bottle gently. The script is all harsh, precise lines, almost geometric. "Dwarven," he says after a moment, "definitely dwarven. Varric would know better than me, though."

"What does dwarven alcohol taste like?" She cocks her head to one side, the curious bird again.

"It tastes like a kick in the ass with sugar on top, usually." He wedges the cork out of the bottle with his bare hands and gives it a cautious sniff. It smells like rich, velvety fruit and heat lightning. "Strong stuff," he says, and he offers the bottle back. "You wanna go first?"

Something steels in her eyes and she takes a reckless swig. Almost immediately she's coughing; her face is red. "Augghhh," is all she manages to grate out as she wipes tears from her eyes.

"That good, huh?" 

She lets out a whoosh of breath. "It tastes like being punched in the gut by someone wearing velvet gloves." She coughs one more time. "Be careful."

Bull takes a healthy swig from the bottle. The stuff is harsh, and burns going down, but leaves a curiously sweet aftertaste, like cherries.

Lavellan is almost glaring. "Show-off," she complains.

Bull lets himself laugh a little louder, happy to see her getting comfortable in his presence. "I've drunk things that should probably be classified as rust-cleaner. This is nothing in comparison."

She smiles and takes the bottle when he offers it again, taking a careful sip this time. Her face still scrunches up, but she only coughs once. "Whoo," she breathes. "That takes getting used to."

Bull accepts the bottle back again, but instead of taking another drink he tucks it next to his side. "So, what's up, boss? Anything in particular you wanted to do?"

She gets that hunted look back again. "No, I just... thought you could, um--"

"Fuck you senseless?" he asks, casually.

She gasps, eyes huge and round in her sharp, delicate face. One hand comes up to clutch at her shirt, like she needs to be holding onto something. "I--I'm not saying..." 

He doesn't move away from the wall, keeps his hands visible. Doesn't say anything else. _Let her come to it herself._

She's shaking like tree branches on the Storm Coast. Her eyes are glued to the floor. "I've never... You _know_ I've never--"

"I know," he says, gently enough that she looks up at him again.

He moves slowly, setting the bottle on the floor and out of the way, leaning into her space. This close, she smells like campfires and dead leaves and tart apples.

"Whatever you're thinking," he starts, tone low, "is probably not what I'd actually _do_. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"

She nods immediately, but she still looks scared. When he puts a hand on her shoulder she flinches like it burns.

He leaves it there anyway. Doesn't grab her, doesn't touch anything but her shoulder. After a few moments she seems to calm. She clears her throat. "I know you wouldn't, Bull. I just. I wanted..." She looks away, then shrugs helplessly. "I just _want_. And I don't know what to _do_ about it."

He lets his thumb rub circles at the place where her neck and shoulder join. "Nothing wrong with that, boss."

She shakes under his hand, but there's no missing the moment when she squares her shoulders. She looks up at him, serious, almost challenging. "Will you show me?"

His stomach does a little flip. "Is that what you want?"

"I... Yes. I want you to... to show me--" She stammers, hesitates.

"I'll show you anything you want," he says, and instead of sounding dirty it comes out reassuring. He gives her shoulder a little squeeze. "Hey, look at me." She looks up again. "Relax. I'm not going to ravish you. That comes later." He grins, and she offers a shaky smile in return. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do. If you want to stop anything, just say stop. I won't be offended."

She nods, then lets out a breath like she's been holding it. "I don't even know where to start," she admits, ruefully.

"Just to be clear, let's go over what you _have_ done. No sex, I get it, but what about touching? Kissing?"

She shakes her head. "I spent so much time alone, scouting and hunting for my clan..."

Bull has to take a deep breath to steady himself. _Never even been kissed. That shouldn't be so hot._

"What about by yourself? Ever touch yourself at night, in bed? In the bath?" 

Her face flames. She shakes her head. "It seemed... too strange. Even when I was alone, I felt... embarrassed."

He grins at her. "Well, that means you'll have some homework to do later."

"I don't know if I could."

He shifts on the bed, moves closer til they're touching hip to hip. "I can show you what to do, if you want." He lets some of his arousal creep into his voice, just a little bit of growl, and feels her shudder at the sound of it.

"Yes." She wets her lips, nervously, and then adds "Please."

That little 'please' goes straight to his dick. "Save the pleases for later," he says, voice rough, "when I'm making you beg for me to let you come."

She lets out a little sound at that, not quite a moan, and squirms like she doesn't know what to do with her body. _Likes the dirty talk, eh? Let's see what I can do with this._

He leans down, far enough that he can whisper against her delicate ear. "Like the sound of that? Of me touching you, licking you, biting you until you can't stand it anymore? Does it get you wet?"

She _does_ moan this time, swaying a little. Bull's hand is the only thing that steadies her. "Bull," she gasps, sounding half-desperate already.

"Easy," he says, still against her ear. "We're gonna take this slow. I'm gonna tell you everything I'm going to do before I do it. When I ask you if you like something, you tell me, okay? Don't bite your tongue on my account."

She nods. Her breathing is already faster.

"Okay. I'm going to touch you now. I'll slide my hand down your back, and if you don't wanna go any further you can tell me." He makes good on his word, smoothing his hand down her spine, caressing. She leans into the touch. "Good. Just feel that for a while." He trails his hand up and down her back, testing, seeing what she likes. The delicate touches make her shudder the most. Apparently, she likes a bit of a tease.

"I'm gonna go a little farther. This okay?" He slides his arm around her waist, fingers light as they venture across her ribs. She tilts her head back, sighing.

"What do you want me to do now?" he asks her. His hand rests just under her breasts, almost touching, but not quite. Not yet.

"I-- Touch me, please." Lavellan leans back against him.

"Gonna have to be specific, boss." Bull doesn't bother to hide his grin. "You gotta tell me where."

She shivers. "I don't know. I don't..." Bull rubs circles just under her breast, letting her feel it when his thumb catches just under the curve of it. She squirms. "There. Please..."

He keeps doing what he's doing, waiting.

The Inquisitor gasps. "My breasts," she grates finally, voice tight. "I want you to touch my--" she breaks off, lets out a high-pitched cry as Iron Bull suddenly moves both hands up to her breasts, fondling her through her shirt.

"Like that?"

"Yes, but, more..." She shakes her head and her back arches into his touch.

"More?" He grabs her a little harder, gives her an experimental squeeze. "Good?"

"Yes. Yes."

He does only that for a while, enjoying the little sounds she makes, thrilling every time she pushes into his hands. He lowers his head and brushes his lips against the side of her neck, and she _keens_.

_Sensitive. So sensitive._ It's getting harder to be gentle, but there's plenty of time for the rough stuff later, he tells himself, when she's good and ready for it.

"I'm gonna set you on my lap now. That all right?"

"What?"

He lifts her up, seats her across his thighs, one arm around her shoulders and the other still playing with her tits. She doesn't protest, so he tilts her head up to look at him.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he tells her.

He tries to make it gentle and slow, but she gasps against his mouth and he can't resist the urge to deepen the kiss. She makes a surprised sound when he flicks his tongue into her mouth, but she doesn't pull away. She squirms on his lap, ass brushing up against his cock, and he breaks away to snarl.

"Careful," he says. "Don't tempt me."

He kisses her again, not even bothering with gentleness this time. It's a dirty kiss, a kiss that just screams _I'm gonna pound you into the mattress_. She keeps up her restless movements, like she just can't stop herself. Iron Bull unravels a little more.

He abruptly slides her off his lap and onto the bed. She looks up at him, eyes wide. He leans over her and knows it's probably intimidating, and he can't help really liking her look of almost-fear. He can tell what she must be thinking: _Oh gods, he's so big. What will it be like? Will he hurt me?_

He kisses her, and _this_ time it's gentle, a brush of lips. "Tell me what you want," he says.

She shakes her head, though it's not a refusal-- more like she's trying to get her thoughts to line up properly again. "Bull," she breathes against his mouth. And then: "Touch me. Everywhere. Anywhere. I just _want_."

He's merciful. Bull slides his hands wherever he pleases, cupping a breast, tracing the line of her hip, brushing his fingers oh-so lightly up her thighs. She moves against his hand, sighing, encouraging.

He dips his fingers down when he reaches the apex of her legs, just brushing her through the fabric of her pants, and she practically arches off the bed. He keeps it up, starting slow, almost teasing. Her knees instinctively try to draw together; when he pushes her legs open wide, she wails.

Her damned _clothes_ are starting to piss him off. He wants to see her, every inch of her. He wants to see if her blush goes all the way down to her tits. He wants to rub his fingers against her cunt and see if she's wet for him. Bull bites back a snarl of frustration. _Slow. Take it slow._

He keeps up his delicate touches until she's grasping at the sheets. "Is this enough?" he asks her as he strokes. "Or do you want more?"

She wets her lips and gives him a dazed look. "Define 'more'."

Bull smiles. "I take some of your clothes off. I touch you more."

She shudders, eyes squeezing shut, like the thought is just too much for her. "Do what you want," she finally gasps.

Bull is tempted to just take her at her word, but he knows better. "Uh-uh, boss. You gotta tell me if you're okay with this."

She wets her lips again. "All of my clothes?"

"No. Not yet." Fuck, he wants to strip her naked, tear her clothes right off. He won't. "Only as much as you want."

She nods in assent. "It's... You could take my shirt off."

It takes all of his willpower to stop himself from ripping it open, sending buttons cascading everywhere. Instead he undoes the buttons slow, one at a time, giving her a chance to protest, to say _no_. 

She doesn't say no, not even when he parts the fabric and runs his fingers over her bare skin. There's a flimsy bit of nothing covering her breasts; he can see her nipples peaked hard beneath it. He smiles to himself as he lowers his head to press slow, open-mouthed kisses up her belly to her chest. He pauses just before he gets to her breasts; she whimpers, and he cups one almost roughly, licking at the other right through the thin white fabric. 

The Inquisitor cries out beneath him. He bites her, gently, just enough to let her feel teeth, and she quivers. He moves to her other breast, sucking at it through the fabric, wetting it with his tongue until he can see the pink of her nipple showing right through. 

"Bull," she gasps. Her fingers twist in the bedsheets.

"You're doing good," he tells her. "We can stop here if you want. Save the rest for another time."

"No!" she exclaims, and she looks away from him, embarrassed. "I mean, maybe not quite yet?"

He runs a finger along the edge of her breastband. "Can I take this off?"

"Yes," she breathes. " _Yes._ "

She's pliant in his hands as he slips the shirt off her shoulders. When he drags his hands upward, pushing her breastband up, she makes a little strangled sound. 

Bull pauses there, just looking. 

"What are you staring at?" she asks, one hand coming up as if to cover herself.

He catches her wrist, pins it gently but firmly to the bed. "A really fine pair of tits, that's what."

"I'm embarrassed," she says, and her other hand moves up. Bull catches that one too and pins it down. She whimpers, squirming in his grasp.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," he tells her. He leans in closer, still pinning her wrists at her sides. "I want to taste you. That okay?"

Lavellan is panting, each breath coming faster than the last. He decides they'll have to stop soon; they've already done a lot, and he doesn't want to push her too far. But first he lowers his head to her chest, taking one pale pink nipple between his teeth and tugging at it. 

She screams.

He soothes her with his tongue, then moves to her other breast. Her skin is so soft it feels almost unreal. She's moving constantly, pulling against his pinning hands, arching her back, moving her legs restlessly like she doesn't know what to do with them. She's murmuring something under her breath; when Bull bites her again, pulling her nipple taut, she moans louder, a constant litany of _pleasepleaseplease_. 

It's pretty much the hottest thing he's ever heard in his life.

"We're gonna stop soon," he tells her, and he feels a burst of hunger and masculine pride when she makes a low noise of protest. He kisses the valley between her breasts. "You can stay here, but we're saving some for later. You're going to hyperventilate if you keep breathing like that."

She tosses her head. "I'm fine," she gasps. "It feels too good..."

_Fuck_. A small part of him regrets his promise not to ravish her. 

"Good," he says, "but we're still stopping. If you can get your breathing under control, maybe, _maybe_ in a while, we'll try something more. Fair?"

Her noise of complaint as he lifts himself away from her is really damn encouraging. He lets go of her wrists before he can be tempted any further and stretches out beside her on the bed, head propped on one arm. 

She moves to button up her shirt.

"Leave 'em," Bull orders, and she looks up at him with startled eyes. "I wanna see."

She leaves her breasts bared, shivering like she's cold, but she's not cold. Bull is so fucking turned on he thinks he might just die. 

Gradually she gets her breathing back to normal, calming down as much as she can. Bull keeps one hand on the curve of her waist, not moving, just there, steadying her. 

After a while he smiles and lifts his hand to cup her delicate, pointed chin. "So. What do you think so far?"

She closes her eyes like she's tired. "I never knew it would be like that. Is it always like that?"

"Not always. Depends on who you're with, and on what you want to do."

She opens her eyes. "What else can we do?"

_Everything_ , Bull thinks a little wildly. He leans in, kisses her slow and sweet until she's whimpering into his mouth. "I'll show you in a bit. You trust me, boss?"

"Of course." The immediate answer warms him all the way down to his toes.

"Good." He pulls her close, settling her against his chest. "Rest a bit. Just breathe. Then I'll show you something new."

The eager look she gives him is worth more than all the gold in Thedas. 

***

"Bull?" The Inquisitor's voice is soft and hesitant. "Are you asleep?"

He pulls her over, arranging her so that she's splayed across his chest. She lets out a high, breathy sound that's probably supposed to be laughter. "Something you wanted, boss?"

She wriggles, tries to sit up or move off him, but he slides his arms around her waist to keep her there. It doesn't take much effort; she can't get any leverage this way, can't get her knees under her to help. He slides one hand down to her thigh, tugging, spreading her legs until she's straddling him, although she's across his waist, not his hips. 

Her tits are still bare and the feeling of her breasts tight against his chest makes Bull breathe a little faster. 

Lavellan takes a moment to collect herself; when her voice comes out, it's shaky, breathy, soft. "I'm not really... tired anymore, I think."

"Yeah?" Bull smiles, and she wriggles again, trying to raise herself up enough to see his face. 

"Yes. I want..." She takes a deep breath. "I want you to show me more."

"I can do that," he says, casual, like she's asked him to fetch her an apple from the kitchens.

"Okay. Good. What--" She cuts off abruptly as Bull sits up; it takes a bit of frantic movement to arrange herself comfortably again, and now she's across his thighs. They sit like that for a moment, and then Lavellan leans up to kiss him.

She's a little clumsy, still awkward. Bull smooths a hand into her short hair, tugging just enough to change the angle, and it seems to click. She licks out shyly against his tongue; Bull clutches her tighter and groans.

She lets out a little gasp, pulling away from the kiss as his hands on her waist pull her body in closer, tighter. He knows she can feel him now, the hard, heavy bulge of his cock pressed up against her. She moves her hips and Bull snarls, has to put a hand on her ass to stop her, to keep her still.

"Not yet," he tells her.

The Inquisitor's eyes are heavy-lidded, her pupils blown so wide they almost consume the spring green of her irises. "Why not?" she asks, breathlessly. She struggles a little, trying to move or get away, and it's hot as fuck. _Fast learner,_ Bull thinks.

"Keep moving," he warns, tone dropping low, almost dangerous, "and I'll tie you to the bed hand and foot to keep you still."

She shudders at that, but she stops moving. The tension singing through her body makes her feel like a taut-pulled bowstring, ready to be released. Bull tilts her head back, hand in her hair, and licks a hot trail along her vulnerable throat. She whines, trembling, so pent up it makes his cock ache just to think about. 

He focuses there for a while, lips soft, mouth warm. She starts to move again, like she's impatient. Bull gives up on gentle and bites her instead, sucking hard enough to bruise. Her sound of shock melts into a warm groan, and she presses against him shamelessly. She _likes_ it.

"Boss," he breathes against her skin, "you're pushing me. Don't ask for the rough stuff yet. You can't handle it."

She trembles harder. "'Rough stuff'?" she repeats, like she doesn't get what that means.

Bull scrapes teeth across her throat, and she moans. "Rough stuff. Like where I tie you up and spank your ass until it's bright red and burning." She struggles again, trying to rub up against his cock, and he snarls. "Rough stuff. Like I hold you down and fuck you so hard you scream. Maybe I take you from behind. Maybe I don't let you come until you're sobbing for it."

She's almost sobbing _now_ , letting out little gasping breaths of excitement as he talks. He slides a hand down to her ass, squeezes gently, and then out of nowhere he plants a little stinging smack on one cheek.

Her back arches. She lets out a little shriek, shuddering.

"This turning you on, boss?" Bull smirks. He knows damn well it is. She nods frantically, eyes closed, face tilted up to his.

"Please," she whispers.

He grinds his cock up against her, hard. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Show me, then."

He can't. Not for her first time. But fuck, he _wants_ to. The urge to pin her down and fuck her fast and hard burns through him. With a strangled noise he releases her, but before she can protest (or escape), he drags her back to him, turning her around so her back is against his chest and she's sitting between his legs. 

"You want it _bad_ ," he murmurs against her ear, almost admiringly. "How long have you had these little fantasies in your head?"

"Too long," she says. "Bull, please, I need it. I need to _feel_."

"Give me your hand," he tells her.

She offers it to him haltingly, obviously not understanding where this is going. Bull just runs his fingers across her palm, ticklishly light. She starts to squirm again and he growls against her ear. "Stop it. Now you're just goading me."

"I can't," she gasps. "I feel like... I'm wound too tight. I need to move."

He kisses her cheek, tenderly. "I know. But you can't. Relax. Let me help you."

She lets out a shaky breath, and then all at once goes pliant in his arms, giving in. Trusting him to take care of her. Bull resists the urge to praise her. _Not yet. Let's see how you handle this._

He still has her hand, and gently, as she breathes, he moves it to press against her own skin, right beneath a breast. "Touch yourself," he tells her, so softly it's barely a command.

"What--?" Lavellan lets her hand be led, sliding over skin, up to her breast. Bull closes his hand over hers, squeezing her, making her squeeze herself. She makes a little strangled sound, low in her throat.

"Other hand too," he says, and she haltingly obeys, her right hand coming up to fondle her other breast without guidance. She makes another small sound, face turned away from him, eyes squeezed shut.

"This is embarrassing," she whispers.

"Keep going," he replies.

She does as she's told, although more than once Bull has to cover her hands with his own to keep her moving. Then he begins to pull one of her hands down, slowly down, over her stomach and then between her own legs.

Her knees clench inward; he has to hook her ankles with his feet to pull her legs wide again. She cries out, face burning. "I can't. Bull, I can't."

"You can." He kisses her ear. She's still wearing her pants, but that won't stop him for long. He moves his hand against her, rubbing slowly, making her rub herself. 

When she's squirming again, he lets go of her hand and takes hold of the ties on her pants. Every tug pulls a noise from her; startled, breathy, needy. 

Sliding them down her legs takes some doing in their awkward position, but he manages it. She lifts her ass when he tells her to, lets him drag her breeches down to her knees. Her underclothes (white, again white) go with them.

He takes her hand again.

She keens, resisting him, trying to pull away. "I can't, I can't do that in front of you," she pants. She's trembling so hard he can feel the bed shake a little.

"I wasn't _asking_ you," he snarls, letting a little threat wind its way into his voice. "I was _telling_ you what to do."

She moans at that, just like he knew she would. She lets him lead her hand down to her cunt. She trembles, and whimpers, and gasps.

Even without touching her directly, Bull can tell how wet she is. He has to bite the inside of his own cheek to control himself. He guides her fingers through her folds. "Like this," he tells her.

She moves her hand haltingly, gingerly. He can tell she's never done this before.

"Here," he breathes against her nape, showing her where to touch, where to circle her fingers, where to find her clit. She jerks against him, hard, like the feeling surprises her.

She leans her full weight back against him, then kicks her breeches the rest of the way down her legs. They get stuck on her boots, and she makes an angry noise; finally she untangles herself, and the breeches hit the floor with a soft _whump_. Her boots are still on. Iron Bull finds that weirdly erotic. 

"Spread your legs," he tells her. When she moves them only a little further apart he brings one hand down, slapping the inside of her thigh. She wails, legs spreading wide for him.

He moves her hand along her slickness, then pushes it down further. He finds her entrance, has her circle around it, and then he slowly presses one of her fingers in.

She makes a sharp noise, and Bull can't tell if it's pleasure or not. "You okay, boss?"

"Hurts a little," she says, and Bull dizzily wonders, _How tight can she be?_

"Take it slow, then. Easy. You don't have to push it in all the way." He draws his hand up, clutching her wrist instead. She withdraws her finger.

"It feels strange," she whispers.

"I know. I can help." His other hand moves over her hip, and then inward towards her heat. He finds her clit and circles it lightly with a fingertip. Her back arches; her head tilts back.

He moves a little faster, pressing a little more firmly until he can feel her hips starting to thrust against his hand. He moves her wrist, reminding her, and she slowly slides a finger back in.

"Oh," is all she can seem to say. "Oh, oh, _oh_ \--"

He pinches her clit between two fingers and she thrusts her finger deeper. "Try one more," he tells her. His voice is rough with want.

She presses another finger into herself, shaking her head, gasping. He rubs her clit harder, faster, finding a quick rhythm and sticking with it. Her hips buck, moving like she can't help herself. "Bull--!"

"You're doing good," he tells her. "Real good. Keep going."

Her breaths come faster and faster. Bull tugs at her wrist, moving it quicker, making her fingers dip in deeper. She begins to babble nonsense and her legs shake hard.

"Bull, I can't, ah, please, _please_ ," she says, her voice ragged, almost sobbing. He can feel her straining to reach something she doesn't even understand yet.

Bull's fingers never let up on her clit. "Fuck yourself for me," he whispers hotly against her ear. She likes the dirty talk, after all. "Fuck your wet cunt with your fingers, yeah, that's it." She's shaking like she's about to come apart, and in a way, he thinks, she is. "Fuck yourself the way you want me to."

Her fingers plunge deep; he pinches her clit again, harder this time, and she finally finds her release, the taut bow coming unstrung. She's loud, crying out as she shudders, as she feels her first orgasm. Bull touches her, strokes her through it, and by the time her climax is over she's sobbing. He doesn't let up, even when she starts struggling and babbling about it being _too much, oh gods, I can't, not again, please please please_. He doesn't stop, and before long he brings her a second time and she _screams_. She falls back against him, exhausted, well-used, still whimpering a little like she can't stop feeling the aftershocks. He thinks it's maybe the hottest thing he's ever done in his _life._

And they aren't even done yet, he thinks wildly. There's so much left to show her.

He pets her soothingly as she comes back down to earth. There are tears on her cheeks. She feels boneless against him, weak, pliant. He arranges her on the bed, gently, and stretches out beside her.

They're silent for a little while as she collects herself. He gives her the time to find her equilibrium again.

When her breathing has started to slow, he kisses her hair. "Okay, boss? Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," she breathes, in a voice he's never heard before-- low, content, almost purring.

"Glad to hear it."

A few moments pass. "I liked that," she says, like she's testing out the realization. "All of it. Especially when you made me--" she breaks off, blushing scarlet. She's stark naked and just got off on her own fingers, and yet she's shy? Bull hides a laugh against the pillow.

She pretends not to notice. "That was good," she says, and the curious tone is back in her voice, "but there's more, isn't there? This was so good, but it gets even better."

"Loads better," Bull agrees cheerfully.

"Will you show me?" Her voice is a whisper that slides like melting ice down his spine.

"Soon." He kisses her, lazy, sloppy, wet. She moans a little. "I'll show you everything soon."


End file.
